PRÉVÔT SPEAKS “Though others by Courante may swear Or some the grave Allemande prefer, Or vow for Gigues alone they care, Or Contredanse’s vulgar stir: For me--who am no villager!-- I love not dances rough and free, Nor yet too slow! Without demur The Passepied’s the dance for me. “Hark to its gentle, plaintive air! Was music ever mellower, More full of grace, more sweetly fair? No dancer, sure, could wish to err From the staid rhythms that recur-- As softly as a breath may be-- With base like a pleased kitten’s purr: The Passepied’s the dance for me! “No other music now may share, With this my favour, or could spur My feet new measures now to dare. What of Camargo? As for her-- (Of passing fancies harbinger!) Quickness, but naught of grace has she. _She_ dance? That plain, fast foreigner? The Passepied’s the dance for _me_!” ENVOI “_Lovers of dance, let naught deter_ _Your love from graces all can see_ _In Passepied! And all aver_ _The Passepied’s the dance for me!_” Of the jealousy which might have impelled Mlle. Prévôt to speak thus of her young rival Camargo and her quicker style there will be more to say presently. It is necessary for a while to turn aside (even to hark back a little, perhaps, since in dealing with a period of transition there must be several threads to trace back and gather up), and to glance at another phase of theatrical history than that of the _première danseuse_ and the august Royal Opera, namely, the less exalted--and more popular--theatre; one which proved often the antechamber to the greater stage and Royal favour, to wit--the Italian Comedy and the Theatres of the Fair. CHAPTER XIV ITALIAN COMEDY AND THE THEATRES OF THE FAIR Humanity, like history, repeats itself in its recurring moods. Some years ago London playgoers went rather mad over what was a comparatively new thing to that period, the production of a delightful play without words, namely, MM. Carré and Wormser’s “L’Enfant Prodigue,” acted to perfection by a cast headed by Mlle. Jane May, as Pierrot, with Mlle. Zanfretta as Pierrette. About two thousand years ago the playgoers of ancient Rome began to go mad about what was _then_ thought to be a really new thing--pantomime acting without words.